


Never Let Me Go

by cheerbabe1529



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Dark Will Graham, Hannibal is a Cannibal, M/M, Minor Violence, Spoilers for 3x13, bedelia is a boss ass bitch, hannibal can't believe he has his graham cracker, he's not morally grey anymore, we have will slowly accepting things now, will is a little bottle of emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheerbabe1529/pseuds/cheerbabe1529
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal was gazing at him as though he had hung the moon and the stars, and the thought almost made him laugh. </p><p>"It's beautiful."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. it's beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this marks my very first story on this website, and it's my first attempt at hannigram, so let's see how this goes. I'm still a bundle of emotions over these two FINALLY becoming canon. The moment was beautiful. This will most likely continue, I think, as ideas come along.

It was a pure animistic instinct that fueled him. 

Adrenalin pumped, flowing through his veins, masking the agony he would have been in otherwise from the gaping wounds that he had already suffered from at the hand of the Dragon. 

The scene before him appeared as a fantasy in his mind. The Red Dragon raged before him, wings spanning out. Will could have imagined this creature had once been stunning in all of its glory, yet the beauty seemed to have vanished during the hunt. 

And that was what this was. 

The Dragon had hunted the both of them down, and now both he and Hannibal had become the hunters rather than the prey. They would be the two to put out the dragons fire once and for all. 

It was a dance between the three of them. An intimate dance. Hannibal and Will had the advantage despite the wounds between the both of them. They knew one another, knew what the other was capable of in such situations. To Will, this was a dance between him and Hannibal. The Dragon was an uninvited guess to witness this dance. Or perhaps he was the guest of honor. Will fell into the dace, knife slashing, blood pooling. Whether it was his, the Dragons, or Hannibals, he didn't care. He felt nothing but the adrenaline coursing through him and the thrill of the hunt---of this dance.

Hannibal had lunged onto the Dragon's back at some point in their deadly dance, and Will watched as teeth tore into flesh before he rushed forward, knife slicing through flesh, tearing and opening a gapping wound within the beast. Everything was a blur for him. 

The Dragon fell, sickly sweet blood pooling from the various inflicted wounds upon him. 

As Will watched kneeling on the ground, the beast's mighty wings had vanished, replaced only with a man lying in a pool of his own blood. 

Adrenalin continued to move through his veins as a hand reached out almost blindly before he felt a familiar hand clasping the offered one. Will was slowly pilled to his feet and a glance allowed him to realize just how close he and Hannibal were now. Distance had always seemed infinite to the empath, yet in hthis moment, there was nothing between the two males. 

Will could feel exhaustion slowly beginning to take its toll as the adrenaline stopped pumping as fast and hard as it had been. 

The Dragon was slain.

The job was done. 

"See, this is what I always wanted for you, Will. For both of us." 

Hannibal's voice was soft, gruff around the edges from the hunt. The words were earnest, alight with hope. Will was silent for a moment, breathing heavily as the words echoed inside his mind. 

He could remember the thrill, the pure rush of their hunt as they slayed the Dragon. He had felt all of it before, though these times had always been different. Those times had always been through another's mind and he had lived through it in his own mind. 

Will gazed at Hannibal, expression open. 

Hannibal was gazing at him as though he hung the moon and the stars, and the thought almost made him laugh. 

"It's beautiful," he whispered, voice slightly hoarse as he spoke. 

He moved in closer to Hannibal, hands grasping at his shoulder, head moving to rest at the other male's chest. Hannibal was taken aback by the action, Will could sense. He could feel the other hesitating as they stood their together, Hannibal grasping lightly at his shirt. Will felt the nuzzle, felt the hand become more steady, more certain. Hannibal held him as though he were afraid Will would slip away and vanish into the moonlight. 

For too long, he had denied himself of this. Will had fought against his own mind, striving to hold onto his sanity and the morals he tucked close to him. There had always been a shield in his mind, albeit a fragile one, when dealing with the minds of people he had shared with for years. When Hannibal had crawled into his life so unexpectedly, these shields had tumbled and collapsed around the other. 

Right in this moment as he held Hannibal and rested against him, Will had never felt more vulnerable and naked. 

And yet, he wasn't scared.

He knew that Hannibal saw him better than any other, and Will knew Hannibal better than anyone. They saw one another for who they truly were, and they accepted one another. It was a beautiful feeling to be accepted by someone so openly. It was a feeling one could become addicted to. Yet, beyond the beauty of this moment, Will realized that he had become the one thing that he had fought against. The pure thrill of slaying another side-by-side with Hannibal had opened the floodgates of his mind. 

Will wanted to feel that again---desperate to plunge into another's body and feel that sickly sweet blood dripping from his own body knowing that it was not his own. He wanted to hunt down those that deserved death. delve into their minds and know them before striking them down. 

And he wanted to do all of this by Hannibal's side. 

Will could see their life together. He could see himself becoming the very thing that he hunted beside Jack Crawford. Perhaps, in the end, Freddie Lounds had been right about him. 

But as Will clutched at Hannibal, he realized that he didn't care. This man--the very Devil himself--was the one that he would always crawl back to. 

He had asked Bedelia if Hannibal had been in love with him, and after that conversation it had dawned on him that in the back of his mind he had always known the other's feelings for him. That realization had bee a shock, certainly, and yet Will had known. He knew it was Hannibal.

Will knew that he loved the Devil himself.

And that was why he knew what had to be done. 

Bedelia had been right. He couldn't live with Hannibal, and he couldn't live without him. 

Will could never return to the man he had been.

Not after he had felt the pure joy of the hunt and slaying another with Hannibal Lecter. 

This is what Hannibal had wanted for him, and it was a stunning revelation to realize that Will wanted it as well. But there was one small part of him that knew it couldn't be; the part of him, though minuscule in this moment, that was still good. There was only one way to end this zero-sum game.

Hannibal had won in his way, but Will would be the victor in the end. 

All these thoughts played in his mind in a matter of seconds before the decision was made. 

Will slipped his right arm around Hannibal's neck as though to pull him in closer. Shifting his weight he tugged at the man in his arms, feeling no resistance. Hannibal knew what he was doing. He knew and he let it happen.

The two fell over the cliff, weightless as gravity took control. 

There was only one thought in Will's mind as he fell, feeling Hannibal clutching him tight. Somehow, the other had shifted his body as though to protect Will from their impending fate.

This was his design. 

This was his end. 

He could have imagined no better ending than in the arms of the man who had become his other half and the man he loved.

There was no panic. No regret.

The water rushed closer, and Will closed his eyes, welcoming the thought of death as the icy water of the Atlantic tore through both him and Hannibal.

And Will willed himself to sink down, down, down into the depths, losing track of everything.


	2. i will survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will learns about the extents of his injuries and makes a decision that will launch Hannibal and him into a new dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! I wanted to apologize for the late update, but college has gotten a bit crazy and I've had to focus on that. I am hoping that I will be able to start posting weekly now because I have the plot and a bunch of ideas down for this that I am hoping you will all enjoy. Because this is such a late update, I might be posting an extra chapter later on this week. Fingers crossed on that.

There was darkness all around. It wasn't a normal darkness. It was suffocating, pulling him in all sorts of directions. He had no strength or energy to fight against the overwhelming sleepiness that overcame him. There was no way to fight this. There was no hint of light in sight, no where to go. The only thing to do was submit to the darkness and let it drown him.

Let it drag him down, down....down.

\----

Will's eyes snapped open and for a moment there was nothing but agonizing pain. His entire body felt like it was burning---like it was trying to rid itself of his internal organs and skin. The light in the room was blinding him, making him squint and unable to judge where exactly he was. His mind was spinning as he tried to process all of this new information through the pain. He needed to slow his mind down and make sense of everything. 

Closing his eyes to block the light out, Will forced himself to calm down and just  _think._

The last thing he remembered was Hannibal's arms around him as they fell, plummeting into a watery grave below. He could remember slaying the Dragon.

He remembered accepting the darkness yet fighting it for one last time. It seemed that the plan hadn't gone quite according to how he had imagined it would. Will took the moment to feel the bed underneath him. He could feel covers over his body, reaching up to his chin as though he had been lovingly tucked into the bed. The thought sent his thoughts whirring as his eyes opened again. The light wasn't as blinding as it had been moments before, but this time the agony had resided to only a few areas now. 

His body felt like it had been battered and bruised all over. It felt like he had run and smashed into a concrete wall. Lifting his arms, legs, and even tilting his head to look around the room to study his surroundings felt almost impossible. The slightest tilt of his head sent his nerve endings into agony, begging him not to move again. 

As soon as the recent pain subsided, Will could feel exhaustion starting to claim him once more, eyes sliding shut despite his internal protests. 

\----

The next time he awoke, he was aware of the specific areas that seemed to give him the most pain. His right cheek where Dolarhyde had stabbed him. Then there was the ache where he had been stabbed in his chest. Will remembered yanking the knife out once the Dragon's sights had been set to Hannibal. He remembered the adrenaline that had pumped through his veins. That had taken away the pain during that time, of course, and now he was really feeling it. The Dragon had done a number on him. 

In the end, however, he had been slain. 

Will swallowed, eyes blinking. His throat felt like sandpaper. He couldn't speak. 

The door to the bedroom opened silently as Hannibal walked inside, a glass of water in hand. 

Walking towards the bed, he regarded Will with a look of concern, though it was soon covered up with his usual indifferent expression. 

Will could feel the presence in the room. He knew who had entered even though his eyes were directly at the ceiling now. His thoughts were racing and no matter what he did, he was unable to pinpoint exactly what he was feeling with Hannibal in the room right now. A part of him felt relief that they were both alive while another part of him had hoped the fall would have meant their end. It seemed fate was extremely cruel in this circumstance. No matter what Will seemed to do, it felt as though Hannibal would not die. His mind rationalized that it was a good thing. He had finally accepted the darker parts of himself that he had fought so hard and for so long against. There was only one person in the world that would accept him, and that person was standing in the room right now. 

If he could have spoken, Will didn't know what he would have said. Perhaps he would have screamed.

Perhaps he would have greeted Hannibal.

Nonetheless, he couldn't speak at that moment even if he had wanted to. 

"I brought some water," Hannibal finally said after the silence had lingered on for far too long. 

Will didn't do a thing at the words. 

"You will have some trouble speaking for a little while, I'm afraid. The injuries you sustained were not fatal, but they will leave you with permanent scars." 

Hannibal paused at that, as though giving Will time to think the words over. 

Scars were nothing new to him. Will had sustained quite a few scars over the years. The smile that he had gained from Hannibal on his abdomen no longer phased him when he saw it in the mirror. The scar along his forehead had been covered by growing his hair out just slightly. There were various other markings on his body from other instances that he was far too tired to think about in detail. Scars were the last of his issues. He was already peppered with scars on the inside. It made no difference to him. 

"I brought you water, if you so desire. You'll need to keep resting to gain your strength back."

Once more, Will said nothing. He made no protest when Hannibal lifted his head gently, a hand at the back of his head in order for him to sip at the water. Swallowing around the sand papery feeling in his throat wasn't pleasant, but the coolness of the water made up for it. Once he had taken another sip, Will's eyes flickered to gaze up at the other. Taking the hint, Hannibal brought the glass away from his lips, gently lowering his head back onto the pillow. 

"Rest, my dear Will."

He closed his eyes, drifting off into a dreamless slumber. 

\----

Upon awakening this time, Will found that he could turn his head without too much pain. He could see Hannibal to the right of him, meeting his gaze. There was a glass of water on the dresser beside the bed. 

The surroundings were unfamiliar to him. He caught sight of light coloring for the wall. Beige, it looked like. There were various pieces of furniture littering the right side of the room as well. Not a room that he knew. 

"We're safe here."

Will made no move to acknowledge the words. He was glad that they were safe. 

Sleep took him once more.

\----

"You saved the both of us."

Hannibal's words made Will's eyebrows furrow. Movement wasn't as painful as it had been. He could lift his arms and legs slightly now, and turning his head was coming easier. Opening his mouth to speak, however, was still painful. Waking up this time, he had felt the bandage on his cheek this time around, and he had briefly thought about Hannibal changing the bandages as he slept. There was one on his chest as well. It was the first time that he had realized he was shirtless underneath the covers so carefully wrapped around him. 

Shooting Hannibal a questioning look, he detected the hint of a smile on the other's lips. 

"We were sinking, the two of us. You managed to get us to the surface before passing out, dear Will. I managed to get us to the surf after. Chiyoh is the one who found us. She helped us, patched up my wounds and yours. We're in a safe house for the time being. No one can find us here. As I said, we're safe."

The information sunk in, allowing him to process what he had been told. They had survived against all odds. 

Will had truly wanted their lives to end when he had chosen to send them over the cliff. He knew that if he did not end things, that he would give into the darkness completely. A small part of him had rebelled against it, desperate to cling to the person that he had once been. It seemed almost funny now as he thought about it. For years he had fought against that inner darkness. Will had wanted to save people. He had wanted to make a difference in the world even if it meant his own suffering. 

He had suffered long enough, hadn't he? 

"G-goo...good," he manged, voice raw, agony rippling through him as he spoke the single word. 

He promptly closed his mouth and remained silent. 

Hannibal gave him a look, one that Will could only determine had to be adoration. He had seen the look on him many times before, but he had never been able to place the meaning. Now, it was as clear as day to him. 

"Don't push yourself. You need to save your strength and energy. I'll be here while you sleep if you need me."

Will didn't want to sleep anymore. He wanted to stay awake and do something. But he knew that right now he was completely useless in this state. He didn't even know where exactly they were. It didn't matter. Hannibal had said they were safe, and he believed it. 

\---

A sweet scent wafted through the hair, making Will's stomach grumble. 

He had been unable to eat solid food for the time that he had been in bed. He had been given water and soup during this time. This time the soup had been better than the last he had been given. 

The memory brought the slightest of smiles to his lips. 

Opening his eyes this time, Will was greeted with a new room. Instead of beige walls, the walls in the room were white, decor lining the walls. There were various pictures and furniture littering the room. He could see a vanity table with a mirror and a chair facing it as he turned his head. There were two dressers on either side of the bed, and a drawer in the middle of the room. The covers over him felt like satin, but he couldn't have been sure. 

The smell of food sent his stomach protesting, begging for normal food. 

Will swallowed, the sandpaper feel of his throat had subsided to a bearable degree at this point. 

Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, his body protesting as it moved in such a way for the first time in two weeks. He glanced around the room once more, confusion flickering in his eyes before he turned his head to the sound of the door being open. 

Hannibal stood in the doorway, clad in a suit. 

Frowning slightly, Will pushed the covers away, moving to swing his legs to the side of the bed. Before he got halfway there, he felt a hand on his arm, and he lifted his head, catching Hannibal's gaze. 

"Slowly, lest you hurt yourself. Your body is going to be weak, Will. You have been resting for quite some time now."

Will waved him off, determined to prove that he could do this. He had been through quite a lot in the past, and he had survived. He was no stranger to agonizing pain like this. Pain was a part of life, after all. He knew that better than most people.

Hannibal, of course, hovered with his neutral expression. Will thought he caught a hint of concern hiding behind the indifference, but he didn't push it. Instead, he slowly pushed himself up from the bed, legs feeling like jelly underneath himself.

Will began to topple backwards when he felt strong arms catching him, arms circling around his waist. His head turned to see Hannibal, feeling his broad chest pressed against his side. If it had been at any other point in his life, Will would have flushed and stuttered with the sudden contact, desperate to get away. He had never been too comfortable with physical contact before, nor had he been a fan of eye contact. 

It was funny how things had changed upon meeting Hannibal.

"That was exactly what I warned you of, Will."

He was being chided right now? Will wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

They had survived a fall into the depths of the sea, and he was being chided for wanting to stand on his own. Will shook his head, a determined expression on his face as he nudged Hannibal away so he could stand on his own two feet. 

Hannibal allowed it, though he kept his hands out in case it was needed. 

Will wobbled slightly as he stood, but after a few moments he seemed to have his balance. It was certainly a start. 

"Are you hungry? I imagine you would be. I prepared us a special supper, if you like." 

That caught his interest. Curiously, he gave a small nod of his head. 

Hannibal gave the smallest of smiles as he moved closer towards Will, one hand resting on the small of his back to give him support. Hesitating for only a moment, Will took a step forward, legs buckling underneath him. 

Hannibal was quick, however, He caught Will, his arm sliding around his waist in order to steady him more. Once again determined to prove that he could do this, Will took another step, legs wobbling, but he remained upright with the help of Hannibal. 

Slowly, the two made their way to the door and out of the bedroom. 

The scent of dinner invaded Will's nose once more.

He smelled meat. 

Turning his head to give Hannibal a look, he did not pay attention as they walked down the hall that opened into where a table and chairs had been set up in a mock dining room. The table was filled with food and decor. The set-up was the furthest thing from the most interesting thing at the table. 

At the head of the table sat Bedelia Du Maurier, an expression of reserved calm on her face.

Will's eyes widened as he took in the sight. 

Even though she appeared calm as she sat, Will could see the underline panic in her expression. It was obvious that she was scared, and as his eyes trailed over the table, he saw why. In the middle of the table lay the main course. It wasn't hard to figure out what exactly the main course of supper was going to be. 

Bedelia regarded the entrance of Hannibal and Will in silence, gripping the fork underneath the table tightly, knuckles white. 

"You look as if you have been through hell and back," she stated, eyes on Will as she spoke clearly. "Though, I suppose the two of you have. I recall warning you of the plan that you made. It appears that I was correct in my assumptions. You both reap the benefits." 

Will could feel himself being nudged towards the table, and he followed alongside Hannibal, allowing himself to be stated at the side of the table near the other head of the table where Hannibal sat himself down. 

"You had ample time to flee. You were confident that Will and I had perished during our duel against Dolarhyde. I had imagined you knew better, Bedelia." 

She tilted her head slightly to the side, expression neutral. 

"I had hoped so, yes. It was a flaw in judgement that I am certain not to make again." 

The conversation unfolded before Will, and he could do nothing but watch and listen for the time being. His eyes swept over the table again, lingering on the main course. Bedelia herself. A part of her, at least. 

Will had never enjoyed her, of course. Not to the degree of his dislike of Freddie Lounds. She had always rubbed him the wrong way whenever they spoke, and Will had been very well aware that she was someone to be reckoned with. Therapy with Bedelia had been quite interesting, and though she did not have the same methods that Hannibal had, he had always felt uneasy during the sessions. The two of them had never been destined to be close. They were two separate entities that had been brought together all because of Hannibal Lecter. 

Bedelia had spent enough time with Hannibal in order to see him like few people had, but she had never been able to compare to Will. And he knew that there was a part of her that was bitter about it; about not being Bluebeard's last wife. 

It had always been Will. 

It didn't matter what his feelings were for her. Will knew that she did not deserve this. It was too late to save her leg, but perhaps her life was still able to be saved. His gaze flickered from Bedelia to Hannibal. 

"Do....don't," he whispered, voice hoarse from the lack of use. 

Both pairs of eyes in the room turned to him. 

"We---we don't....have to do this."

As Will spoke, he could feel his voice getting stronger. It was still hoarse and sore, but if he didn't think about it, he'd be fine. He could deal with this pain. It was noting to him.

"Bedelia may....be many things...but she does not deserve this. We can...get away. We don't have to stay here."

Now, Will turned his full head to Hannibal, expression open. He needed to show Hannibal that there were other ways. They didn't have to stay here and torment Bedelia no matter if she deserved it or not. They could get away now, flee before the FBI could find them. It had been two weeks, which meant that Dolarhyde's body had been found and Jack Crawford would be on the hunt for the two that had slain him. 

Will didn't want to go back to jail. He didn't want to be locked away and stuffed into a cell in a psychiatric ward. He couldn't deal with people poking and prodding at him like that again. 

Hannibal gazed back and forth between Will and Bedelia as he allowed the words to sink in. 

"It appears my words were correct the last we spoke. You are a reckless, righteous, twitchy man."

Amusement flickered in Will's eyes as he turned to look at Bedelia. Perhaps she was right. He wasn't going to argue with her, not this time. 

It had been the Great Red Dragon's Becoming, but in the end, it was Will who had Become. 

The lamb had become the lion. 

"We can leave...now. Leave this all behind us and start over. It's what you've wanted, Hannibal."

Hannibal was silent as he pushed himself from his chair. He walked along the length of the table, coming to a stop beside where Bedelia sat rigid. 

"Let her live, you mean."

Will gave a nod of his head. Yes, he wanted to let her live. She had never done anything personally against him, and he felt no desire to end her life. 

Before Hannibal could respond to the answer, a glint of metal flashed through the air in an arc towards Hannibal, angling towards his throat. 

Bedelia's wrist was caught in Hannibal's strong grip, his gaze dropping to the fork gripped tightly in her hand. He regarded the silverware with a tilt of his head. Will could see that Hannibal was amused rather than put off by her trying to stab him in the throat with the fork. 

As if it would be so easy.

"Ever the fighter, Bedelia," he crooned, approval in Hannibal's tone as he plucked the fork from her grasp, dropping her hand.

She brought had hand back towards her body, carefully resting it in her lap. Her back was straight as she stared off straight in front of her, refusing to look at either of them. 

"Hannibal."

Will could feel the other's gaze boring into him at the sound of his name. 

"Let's leave. Now."

Hannibal's gaze returned to Bedelia for a moment before he gave the briefest of nods and made his way to Will's chair, helping him stand with a steady hand. 

Will turned his head to look at Bedelia, her gaze flickering over the two for a moment before she turned her head away.

They left the room without another glance.

\----

Back in the bedroom, Will sat on the edge of the bed. 

"The FBI will be looking for us. If two weeks have passed, it's going to make it harder for us to leave the country. They'll be expecting that."

Hannibal had busied himself packing things around the bedroom. He produced a cell phone, bringing it to his ear after typing in a number. Will tuned the conversation out. He could feel his limbs getting heavier now. This had been the most action in the last two weeks, and his body was protesting against him now. 

Ending the call, Hannibal turned around to face Will. 

"Chiyoh left some time ago. She is in Florence right now. We will be leaving to meet her in a few hours."

Will looked taken aback at the words. 

"That's what Jack will be expecting. He'll be looking at all the major airports. Even the minor ones, I'm sure there will be something. We can't get out of the country on a plane."

Hannibal didn't appear worried at the words. 

"What have I told you, Will? You worry too much. I have a connection that will allow us a private flight to Florence."

Of course he did. Will should have been surprised, but this was Hannibal. He had learned nothing should surprise him any longer.

Instead of speaking, he just nodded his head. 

"Sleep now, Will. We leave in three hours."

Hannibal walked towards him, carefully bringing a hand up to smooth back Will's hair. His gaze fell to the scar that he had made three years ago on his attempt to cut Will's head open. He allowed a small smile to form before bending down to place a gentle kiss against the scar.

Will's eyes fluttered closed at the touch. 

Maybe this was how things were always going to end up. There was a reason they survived. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make the extent of Will's injuries realistic. I have knowledge on it, but you can never be too sure. Hannibal has his injuries as well, but I imagine he'd suck it up after treating it. He'd be too worried about Will. For Will not talking for a lot of this, I took that from the Red Dragon. He wasn't able to speak after sustaining that injury for a bit, so I wanted to incorporate that. I hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> Next chapter: Will and Hannibal meet up with Chiyoh in Florence. We go back a little bit to Jack Crawford learning about the Dragon's death and we see Jack and Alana going to Molly to speak with her about some findings.


End file.
